


Meadows

by Arrowlion



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25103449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrowlion/pseuds/Arrowlion
Summary: Kitty tries a new type of therapy.
Relationships: Anne of Cleves/Katherine Howard
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	Meadows

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place a couple of years after the queens were reincarnated. Kitty and Anna are girlfriends. Hope you enjoy!

“I’m not going.”

Ignoring Kitty’s assertion, Jane continued her progress toward the door, rifling through her purse.

“I have some errands to run after,” she remarked, “so I’ll pick you up on the way back.”

“No need. I won’t be there.” Kitty folded her arms over her chest and let her body go lax, sinking into the couch. Already halfway out the door, Jane glanced back and gestured at Kitty to follow.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“Jane!” Kitty snapped, her frustration boiling over. She drew in a deep breath. “I. Am. Not. Going.”

Her raised voice drew the attention of the other four queens, who materialized in the doorway of the sitting room. Kitty was gratified to see Anna foremost among them, her dark eyes narrow with concern.

“What do you mean, not going?” Jane asked, stepping back inside.

“Self-explanatory, really. I don’t want to go to therapy today. Or, you know, ever.”

“Why not, love?”

Kitty sighed, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see the others watching her. “It doesn’t do any good. I talk and she sits there staring at me with that stupid expression on her face, that ‘I’ve-been-trained-for-this’ look, and when I’m done she smiles and throws out a couple of rehearsed lines, and then we’re done. It’s bullshit.”

Jane cringed at her harsh language. “Maybe you should give it more time,” she suggested.

“Jane’s right,” Catalina leaped in. “You’ve only been going for a couple of weeks.”

Cathy nodded agreement. “Or maybe we could try to find a new therapist. There are plenty at the clinic, if this woman wasn’t a fit-“

“Thanks, Cathy, but no thanks.” Kitty straightened on the couch, a note of pleading creeping into her tone despite her efforts to keep it neutral. “I just don’t think therapy works for me, all right? They don’t know the whole story- if I told them, I’d probably be committed to an asylum or something- so nothing they say is anywhere near as helpful as having you guys around when I need you. Why not leave it at that?”

It was true. The other queens had done more for her than the therapist’s platitudes could ever do. Anna and Jane, however, both frowned. 

“You’re sweet,” said Jane, offering a tense smile, “but even with us to support you, the flashbacks haven’t stopped.”

It was Kitty’s turn to flinch. No, they most certainly hadn’t. She’d come leaps and bounds from the first weeks after reincarnation- a dark time that she stowed in the far-back recesses of her memory- yet the visions still came to her, the phantom hands that seized and stroked her body. At nights, even with Anna’s steady breathing beside her in bed, or Jane’s gentle embrace on the couch, she thrashed, shuddered, and screamed until they managed to shake her awake. The rest of the night would drift by in soporific terror, with Kitty ensnared somewhere between past and present, as her family sought in vain to soothe her. By the time the sun skirted the horizon, several pairs of eyes would be red with tears and lack of slumber. During the day, meanwhile, the slightest sensations, from an unexpected touch to a few notes of classical music, could plunge her into a full-blown panic attack.

She loathed it all: her weakness, her inability to move on, her presence being a burden upon those she loved most. Jane’s reminder was gentle, but it stung like acid. 

“I’m working on it,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze to stare at the floor. 

“Don’t feel guilty, liebling,” Anna broke in, reading the pain in her eyes, “and don’t feel like you need to do this alone. We want to help you.” The others all nodded agreement.

“But,” continued the German queen, “if this sort of therapy isn’t working for you, then you don’t have to go.”

“Anna-“ began Jane.

“Hold on. I have a new idea, actually.” Anna fished through her pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of laminated paper. “This was on the bulletin board of the animal shelter when we last went to volunteer,” she explained, holding it out to Kitty. “I thought we could check it out.”

Kitty took the flyer. Above a wall of text, it depicted several horses standing serenely in a corral, with wide eyes that gazed soulfully out at her. She read the first paragraph:

_**Alder Meadows Sanctuary  
Animal Rescue and Therapy Center**_  
For youth groups, people with disabilities, and any willing participants, Alder Meadows is an animal sanctuary offering equine-assisted therapy to support mental wellness. Free walk-in riding sessions offered every Saturday.

_Equine-assisted therapy?_

Her skepticism must have shown on her face. 

“It goes on all about it. Apparently it works for post-traumatic mental disorders,” said Anna. “Mostly anecdotal evidence, but still, I know how much you love animals, and if we’re looking for something different. . .”

“Yes!” Kitty burst out. She had noticed Jane’s expression soften slightly as Anna spoke, hinting at a chink in the armor. “I want to do it.”

Sure, it probably wouldn’t work. Nothing had yet. But she would do anything not to feel her therapist’s small, algae-colored eyes fixed on her as she choked over painful recollections of her past. Anything at all. 

Also, to be honest, the horses looked pretty damn cute. 

*

Kitty hopped out of the car, landing in a thick layer of dust that billowed around her ankles. Belatedly she realized that she should probably have worn boots instead of trainers. 

_Oh, well. Too late now._

What mattered was that she was here. With Kitty’s pleading and Anna’s support, Jane had finally relented to let her skip the therapy session for today. At least, the human one.

Now the blonde queen leaned out the car window. “I’ll come to pick you up around five, okay? Just call me if you get hurt, or if you need anything- did you put on sunscreen?”

“Yes, Jane, don’t worry. I’m not going to get hurt, I promise.” 

The concern in Jane’s crystal-blue eyes softened to affection. “If you say so. Just be careful, that’s all I ask. And have a good time.”

“I will,” Kitty vowed, and waved goodbye as the car accelerated away. She turned and surveyed the scene in front of her. 

Directly in front of her lay the stables, with a small office building adjacent. Several large riding corrals lay directly in front of them. Further ahead, the land was dominated by a vast field, painted with streaks of green and golden grass and rimmed by a wooden fence. She could count at least ten different horses there, necks bent as they grazed. A soft breeze played upon her cheeks. The fragrance in the air was sweet, a thousand times preferable to the stuffy environment of the therapist's office.

Already she was feeling happy, if not hopeful that the visit would have any effect on her mental state. Squaring her shoulders, she strode to the administrative building. 

Behind the desk was a short woman with dark curly hair tied back in a ponytail, who greeted her with an amiable grin. “Hey, what can I do for you?”

“Hi.” Kitty hesitated a moment, shuffling her feet, then forced herself to the desk. “I’m, er, here for a riding session.”

“First time on a horse?”

It wasn’t, but then again, how long since she last mounted? Four centuries? Five? 

“It’s. . . been a while, to tell you the truth.”

“No worries, hon. We already have a few riders here. Some of ‘em are first timers, others’ve been before. We’ve got instructors for everyone. Just out the door.” 

Thanking her, Kitty exited through the back entrance and found herself next to one of the corrals. A small group was already gathered: two young women, a middle-aged man, a teenage girl, and a boy no older than six. Their eyes darted up at her approach, and, scanning their faces, she was startled to recognize one of them. 

“Bessie?”

The bassist smiled, pale eyes sparking. “Hey, Kitty.” 

“You come here?”

“Every now and then.”

Kitty gave a friendly nod, but didn’t push her further: Bessie was a woman of few words, and she didn’t want to intrude. After all, she was the newcomer here. 

The boy, whom Kitty recognizes as Bessie’s young son, skipped around a wooden pole, singing to himself. The others didn’t speak, instead studying the horses in the corral. There were geldings and mares of every size and shape and color. She couldn’t put a name to the modern breeds, only compare them to those she had known. Some resembled the strong and swift coursers she remembered, built for cavalry, while others were more elegant, with smoother gaits, closer to what she had once called a jennet or a palfrey. They moved among themselves, nosing at the ground for shoots.

Kitty approached the fence, making soft clicking noises with her tongue like she’d seen Anna do around dogs. One of them, a chestnut mare with a flaxen mane, as tall as the destriers of Kitty’s time, approached her with ears pricked, a high nicker sounding from her throat. Tentatively, Kitty reached out her hand, and the mare leaned out to sniff it, warm breath washing over her skin. “Hi, there,” she whispered.

Since her girlhood, growing up in the Dowager Duchess’s crowded home, Kitty had nurtured a fondness for animals. It gave her pride, to gain their trust, and there was something meaningful about having to earn it. Once there, it was never lost. Quite different than with humans, at least, those who she knew back then. 

Her chest tightened. 

_Don’t think about it. Leave the past alone. Breathe._

Thankfully, the instructors arrived and introduced themselves, interrupting her reverie, then entered the corral to bring out a horse for each person. When it came to Kitty’s turn, one of the instructors sized her up, then led out the chestnut mare.

“Don’t let her size fool you,” he assured her. “She’s the gentlest we have.”

Kitty nodded, stroking the mare’s glossy neck with her fingers. “What’s her name?”

“Melody.”

“Melody,” Kitty repeated to herself, humming quietly as the horse leaned into her touch. 

The horses and participants were brought to a series of stalls, one for each pair. The instructors passed out round combs with rubber spikes, then demonstrated how to move it in circles over the horse’s body. Copying them, Kitty found the motion to be surprisingly relaxing. Tension she hadn’t realized was there melted out of her spine as she absorbed herself in the rhythmic movement of her arm and Melody’s steady breathing. She began to wonder if this might do her some good after all. 

The feeling of contentment was short-lived. After the horses had been groomed, the instructors came out with helmets and riding equipment. One of them held out a set to her.

“You’re new, right? I can help you get it on,” he offered.

“Thanks, but I got it.” The process felt familiar enough. Taking the equipment, she saddled Melody and drew the reins over her head. However, when it came to actually mounting the horse, she hesitated. Upon closer inspection, the saddle was completely different than what she was used to. 

She turned to the instructor. “Do you have any side saddles?”

He blinked. “Side saddles?”

“It’s how I learned to ride. I’ve never done it astride before.”

“You. . .” His face was still utterly confused. “I’m sorry, all of ours are like this. This is the normal. . . I mean, most people don’t learn sidesaddle anymore.”

Kitty bit her lip, cheeks heating up. She took a second to glance around at the other female riders. Yes, they were riding astride, with the horse’s back between their legs, rather than sidesaddle as she was accustomed to, with both legs resting on one side. Copying them, she managed to mount the horse and slip her feet in the stirrups. The new position felt strange. 

_I should have known it would be different_ , she chastised herself, shifting her legs in an effort to get comfortable. She knew she should just move on; it had only been a momentary quandary. Even so, it nettled her. She hated feeling out of place in the modern world. It had been years- shouldn’t it be easier by now? Shouldn’t there be fewer awkward pauses and bewildered looks? Yet here she was, ever out of place. 

But what could she have done? Sidesaddle was how she had learned to ride, like most girls back in her days. It had meant needing assistance to mount, not to mention less control over a runaway horse, but, as Kitty had been told, it would preserve the appearance of virginity. 

_How ironic, for me._

_There was nothing to preserve._

Such thoughts were dangerous.

Once again she felt her chest getting tight, and this time, no distraction arrived to relieve her. 

_Breathe_ , she tried to remind herself again, but the same assurances that had worked before were futile when she was already stressed and short of air. That iron vice solidified around her lungs. Her breaths came short and fast, her hands shook, an icy frisson of terror chilled her to the marrow. Rough hands grasped at her most vulnerable places, thirsting and insatiable, while low voices crooned into her ears. She felt her muscles go limp.

As she sucked in a gasp of air, however, the scent of it took her aback, long enough to distract her. It was sweet and warm, animal without being musky. Soothing, somehow. She took another breath, this one slower, and became aware of Melody’s neck beneath her, strong enough to hold the weight of her upper body. The horse had turned her head, regarding her with one deep brown eye. She exhaled sharply through her nose, ears flicking. The motions seemed nervous. 

“It’s okay,” Kitty choked out. She managed to lift herself up and stroke the horse’s neck reassuringly. “Sorry, girl. I’m all right.”

The words were meant only to put the animal at rest, so she was startled to find that there was truth in them, after all. The need to calm the horse had redirected her focus, tearing her free from the ghostly hands, and the steady sliding of her own palms over the soft hair helped to ground her even further. Drawing in a few more deep breaths, she felt the incipient panic attack subside. 

_Okay. That was. . . different._

Looking around her, she was relieved to see that nobody seemed to have noticed her brief episode. The instructors, having finished getting everyone on a horse, were leading them into the corral. Kitty gently gripped Melody with her legs (which, she found, was much easier to do with a leg on each side) to nudge her forward, banishing all thoughts of the past behind her for the rest of the day.

*

That night, she didn’t dream of her music teacher. She saw no trace of her grandmother’s secretary, nor the king, nor his courtier. Not even the sleek silver of the executioner’s axe could slice its way into her visions. Instead, she dreamed she was back at the stables.

The day’s events repeated themself in her mind. Grooming, riding, chatting with Bessie, then brushing down Melody one last time before wandering the property as she waited for Jane to pick her up. Meeting the other horses, asking Bessie their names, challenging herself to remember them all. Romance, Bessie’s favorite, a mild-mannered skewbald who sniffed her hair. Magic, a morel gelding who was playing with a shiny green Jolly Ball and nearly hit her in the face with it. Napoleon, a powerful bay that Kitty took a liking to as she watched him canter around the corral. 

Each image danced before her eyes, so vivid she would have thought them real were it not for the opalescent quality that dreams lend to memory. When she awoke, light was streaming through into the bedroom, and she was smiling rather than screaming. Anna, already awake, was propped up on one elbow, watching her.

“. . . hey?”

Anna didn’t look away when she spoke, but leaned in to kiss her instead. “Sleep well?” she murmured.

Kitty nodded. “Better than. . . a while.”

“Good,” Anna whispered into her lips, pulling away. “Let’s go get breakfast, then, and I’ll tell Jane she can cancel the therapy session for next week, too.”

*

Months passed by. Not once did she return to the therapist’s office.

She kept riding instead. 

Everything about it relaxed her. She found a friend in Bessie, someone who seemed to understand that some days she didn’t want to talk and some days she did. What was more, caring for Melody gave her a sense of accomplishment. At home, she was always the one her family cared for, and though she loved and appreciated them for it, she enjoyed this new feeling, too. And those moments when her thoughts dipped too close to the nightmares of the past, she could place a hand on her mare’s neck to keep her in the present. 

It wasn’t always enough. The panics were inevitable at times, when the trigger was too sudden or too strong, and the monsters she had known still found their way into her dreams. But it was with less and less frequency. Coupled with the unfailing support of Anna and the other queens, it could be okay. She could be okay.

One week she took them all to the ranch. 

“The ones with the long necks that look like coursers, they’re called Arabians. And the chestnut there, her name’s Chispa, she’s a Peruvian Paso- sort of like a jennet, they’re from the same stock. Oh, Jane, that griesel mare- well, it’s just called gray now, instead of griesel- anyway, that’s Crystal, she’s a sweetheart-“

“Hey, Kätzchen, which one’s a Flanders mare?” Anna teased, interrupting the flood of information as Kitty dragged them from stall to stall. 

Kitty giggled. “There aren’t any so beautiful here, apart from you,” she retorted, provoking a laugh in return.

“And this one,” Kitty finished, arriving at the furthest stall, “she’s mine, she’s called Melody. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Anna leaned against the pole, offering a hand to Melody. The mare gave a friendly nicker, nuzzling Anna’s fingers. 

Kitty looked around. Anne had hung back at Magic’s stall, while Catalina was yelling at her to get-down-from-the-fence-this-very-instant-Anne-Boleyn-do-you-want-to-break-your-neck. Jane and Cathy had stopped to talk to Bessie, who was returning Romance to her stall. 

“Anna,” Kitty said. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Listening to me. Finding this for me.”

Anna stepped forward to wrap her arms around Kitty in a tight embrace. 

“Always, mein schatz,” Anna promised. “I want you to be happy.”

Kitty leaned in to kiss her, reaching a hand to run through her girlfriend's hair. “I‘m working on it.”

And, unlike the last time she said it, she was finally getting somewhere.


End file.
